Flashback Departure [Razkar]

[Ayatah]

oocEXPLICIT warning... Just FYI

|| 39th Summer, 512AV || 8th Bell || The Jungle Wilds ||

The jungle had quickly swallowed the buildings of Taloba, and soon nothing but plants, animals and sticky humidity surrounded the travelling lovers. They trudged onwards, making slow but sure progress over the next few days. Everywhere they went the jungle was overgrown and heaving with insect life that had flourished since the djed storm. It made for a slow journey, but Ayatah found she was strangely pleased that the jungle was thriving, so buzzing with life -- even if the djed storm had also bought such horror to their people. There just was something beautifully reassuring about just how vast and evergreen their home was, that it had not just survived the djed storm, but become stronger, thicker because of it. Even after thousands of years, the Myrian people had spoilt only the tiniest fraction of the jungle.

No, not spoilt. That was almost blasphemous. Nevertheless, there was still a part of Ayatah that was relieved at just how raw and unrefined the jungle was. She suspected that in the next thousand years, and the thousands of years after that, the trees would still be standing tall as ever, shielding the green earth below from Syna’s raze.

Even after we’re long gone… The jungle will remain.

And despite the vast array of wildlife that resided within the rainforest, there were moments when Ayatah thought she and Razkar were the only two living beings left in the entire world. The thought never lasted long before some rude bird shrieked or a bug flew into her face and ruined the romantic image, but during that time Ayatah simply enjoyed the stillness.

The morning of the third day into their journey started in such a way. Ayatah lay upon that infamous tiger skin, her head resting on Razkar’s chest and her raven hair fanned out behind her. Despite being wide awake, for the first few chimes of her day she did nothing but lie still, eyes still closed and listening to the heavy breathing of the man she loved. Then a bird screamed, and that perfect silence was broken.

And with it came the warmth of Syna, awakening the jungle and it’s animals whilst sending those nocturnal creatures to sleep. Another cycle had begun, another day of walking, and another step closer to their separation.

But that was a while away yet, and Ayatah meant to make the most of their final days together, especially this special alone time with nobody else around them for miles and miles…

So she propped herself up on her elbow, considering how best to wake her man up. The tiniest of smiles pulled on her lips as she watched his eyes flicker to and fro in his sleep, fingers twitching ever so slightly.

But they needed to get up, and Ayatah had a particular needed that required attention

She dropped several light kisses on the side of his neck, working up to his ear lobe and then back down to his chest. Her fingertips brushed that taut, dark stomach, noticing the slight tensing in his muscles as he became slowly aware of the world beyond sleep.

When he made a quiet, throaty noise, she knew her work had been successful in stirring him -- apparently in more ways than one. She spoke lowly and breathlessly into his ear. ”I think you know what I want….” Her fingers started to slowly move lower, and lower until --

-- She sat up, patted his chest and flashed him an incredibly smug, mischievous grin. ”…Food. I’m hungry.”

His face said it all, and Ayatah just giggled.

|| Ayatah's speech || Ayatah's thoughts || Others' speech ||

[Razkar]

Something was pulling him from blissful oblivion. Hesitating and supremely reluctant, whatever sentience the Myrian mind had in that sleeping world resisted it. The days had been long, twelve bells walking at a time over land that even a tiger would get exhausted trekking over. The nights were humid and when they awoke, it was as if the jungle landscape had changed in a few short bells.

Caiyha certainly was busy the Djed Storm, and whatever horrors had been visited on Razkar and Ayatah's people, the jungle had swallowed the damage as if it never was.

He mumbled and frowned at the insistent tugging... and then began to subsume to it. It was not like the pulling of a child or the shaking of a parent. It was... affectionate. Slowly his body began to swim into consciousness, and h was aware of... pleasure.

Razkar's mind smiled, and his waking body followed suit. He recognized the sensation. Soft... moist... sensuous and intimate... he'd know the kisses of his love anywhere.

”I think you know what I want….”

Oblivion gave way to light, then shadow, then shape... and he looked up to see Ayatah's face smiling hotly down at him from under the canopy. His hands moved of their own accord, needing less time to think than his mind did, stroking up her hips as he grinned at her words. He mouth came lower, lower, and her wondered how-

”…Food. I’m hungry.”

"... oh, you are evil!"

At once his soft, stroking fingers stabbed into her sides and her giggles filled the canopy, sending a flock of shadows shooting upward away from the insane bipeds below. Razkar held her steady, smiling despite his anger.

"Is that all I am to you, hmm? Just a dumb male to fetch your food?!" He rolled her over even as she turned a funny color, wanting to be mad at her laughing lips and failing miserably. "Oh, yes, mistress! Whatever you desire! Never mind my unsatisfied morning w-"

She kissed him, the utter, knowing bitch, and that stymied any further argument on the matter. He savored every caress of her lips, every movement of her tongue against his, and finally sighed against her...

"C'mon, then, female. Let's eat."

He got to his feet and stretched the sleep from his weary muscles. The male knew her eyes were perhaps on him and smiled. Not only at the ego boost, but because, well... he didn't feel self-conscious if it was here. There was no concern or small ember of shame for his scarred and battered appearance when she gazed at him; instead, he was proud, honored even, to have her eye.

Razkar groaned softly as he leaned down and touched his toes... then leaned further and gripped them from underneath, feeling his vertebrae crack. That done, he shook his legs loose and snatched up his shortbow and quiver, swinging the latter over his shoulder.

Dark, piercing eyes narrowed and gazed around them. They'd past a stench on the way her yesterday, something like... boar dung. Perhaps deer. Maybe even some breed of canine. Either way, it was something, and if not, there were always the fat squirrels, sloths and birds, even snakes infesting the canopy.

Razkar notched an arrow but left the string loose, holding the weapon low and smiling at his mussy-haired lover. He quirked an eyebrow.

"Going to accompany me? Surely you don't trust a mere male to win your breakfast for you..."

[Ayatah]

"Oh, yes, mistress! Whatever you desire! Never mind my unsatisfied morning w-"

Fortunately, Ayatah knew just how to silence him, and in no time they were kissing, though the odd chuckle escaped from between their lips every so often.

When he pulled away and stood to stretch, Ayatah remained sitting on the ground, chocolate eyes watching his every move and drinking in those broad shoulders and toned legs… not to mention other impressive parts of his anatomy. A single eyebrow arched as he bent and stretched, though she also wore a strange, lopsided smirk that betrayed just how much she enjoyed the view.

"Going to accompany me? Surely you don't trust a mere male to win your breakfast for you..."

Well, at least one of them was still able to focus on the task at hand. Ayatah nodded and sprang to her feet, quickly shrugging on her clothes. She smirked and pecked his lips. ”Oh, you poor man. Life is so hard for you, isn’t it?” She pouted, though her eyes glinted with poorly hidden humour. Selecting her longbow, she slung her quiver onto her shoulder and then nodded, finally ready to go.

They slid into the overgrowth, both treading carefully with their arrows pointing to the ground, though notched and ready to be targeted. The summertime, twinned with the growth of the jungle, would bring with it large numbers of young birds and mammals, clumsy and more trusting than their wise elders. They would find something, there was no doubt -- it was just a matter of when.

Ayatah’s fingers touched the willowy bark of a tree, bending slightly to investigate strange marks that were engraved into it in a random pattern. They were no more than three feet from the earth, and she threw Razkar a questioning look. ”A deer, maybe? Or boar?” The marks were not fresh, but she knew that the male of a species tended to remain in the same area, whereas the females flitted in between. ”Either way, could be breakfast. And lunch.”

She stood up straight once more, stepping carefully and quietly. Goddess, she loved the hunt. It had taken her a while after the djed storm to brave heading into the jungle again, when she had sought comfort in the safety of her home or the infirmary. But it had been more than a season since the storm; the mourning mother within Ayatah had… not disappeared, but become more accepting. And since then, that hunting instinct had regained its place within her mentality. As she touched the fletching of her notched arrow, Ayatah smiled and nodded secretly to herself; time certainly does heal

Something moved ahead of them, and the two Myrians snapped their bows upwards with impressive synchronicity.

|| Ayatah's speech || Ayatah's thoughts || Others' speech ||

[Razkar]

She had keen eyes, and the pragmatic part of Razkar appreciated them. Well, in truth, he appreciated all of her, but he knew many hunters who relied too much on the broad strokes. It was the little things that helped you not only find your prey, but identify it.

He bent down to the tree she had pointed out, squinting at the white scratches a few feet above the ground.

”A deer, maybe? Or boar?”

"Boar, I think." Razkar said finally, tracing a finger along one of the scars slashed into the tree. "Too low to be a deer, and see here? It doesn't arch up high enough to be a buck, lowering it's head and jerking upwards. Probably a male boar, sharpening his tusks for a ruck." He flashed her a quick grin. "You know what males are like when the females are in season..."

”Either way, could be breakfast. And lunch.”

Razkar unconsciously licked his lips, eyes afire with hunger and anticipation. "A male? Most definitely. We can eat well and smoke the rest. Have some decent dried meat for our little trek..."

There were no words after that, an unspoken rule of the hunt that the two of them had learned young. Sound was the biggest tell in the jungle, and jabbering, guttural Myrian, even utterly lowly, could scare away prey. So they moved in tandem, but low and slow. Razkar checked his feet with every other step, ensuring they found wet leaves or mud.

Snapping twigs. An amateur mistake.

After a few chimes he hazarded a glance to his right and saw the slight, feral smile on Ayatah's face. It was all-Myrian, and he felt his own lopsided grin take form. Anyone with even a drop of the Children of Myri in their veins knew that thrill: finding signs, knowing your quarry, then the slow, patient tracking of the prey... finding it... plotting by calculation and instinct both how best to take it down and then, the wet, triumphant victory.

Leaves an foliage moved ahead of them, too localized and abrupt to be a gust of wind. At once arms went up and back, arrows made horizontal and taut in bows. She moved with the same grace and speed as him, still silent, watching... peering...

A slight grunt from ahead of them. Too low to be a female... Razkar grinned.

She was right.

Holding the arrow taut with one hand, he moved his other away slowly, pointed to his chest and then to his left. Then he pointed at her, and to her right. She nodded and the two of them split up, opposite directions, crouched over almost so they were duck-walking, using the thick and tall debris of the jungle floor to flank their prey.

Alone in the chaos of the undergrowth, Razkar licks dry lips. He felt his heart pound harder at the great gamble the hunt represented. Bells could be spent tracking ones prey, and with one misstep it could escape, all that work turning to naught but ash. His ears pricked, hearing the same grunting getting louder... but staying the same distance.

The faintest splash, but... thicker... and he smiled again. Ah, found a nice little mud hole, have we? Well, enjoy it, brother. It will be your last.

The male found the land lilting softly upwards and exulted silently. An elevated firing position. Perfect. He found cover behind a fallen trunk, grown decrepit and rotting with unfathomable age, and peered over it...

A splashing and rolling male was having the time of his life, short, young tusks flashing in the dark mud. Razkar raised his bow slowly, gauged the distance. Maybe... forty feet. He opened his mouth-

-and before he could even give voice to his bird-call question, he heard Ayatah's own call from the other side of the boar. The pig stopped, sensing something amiss. Razkar swallowed and replied, a short, sharp caw-cluck that she would know the meaning of.

Ready when you are...

He sighted down the arrow, tip of it hovering minutely before the boar's meaty flanks, felt the tension in his arm grow little by little... waited for the call that would set him free...

[Ayatah]

Aah, Ayatah did enjoy being right. She smirked triumphantly as she heard the snuffling and snorting of a boar, feeling that buzz of excitement that only came from knowing what exactly she was stalking. ‘Lunch’ was far too broad, and as fun as it was to find something, Aya had always enjoyed hunting most when she knew what it was she would be eating.

They were getting closer, though neither could see the hog just yet. Though her mind’s eye was full of images of the fattest, smelliest pig to ever exist. What was it that Quinneth said? The more something smells, the better it tastes. As long as it doesn’t smell off, that is.

She followed his silent instructions, merging in with the dark overgrowth and disappearing amongst the shadows. She, more than any pureblood, had to be careful to avoid those golden strips of sunlight that flooded through the gaps of the canopy. It was bad enough for a dark-skinned Myrian to risk being seen in Syna’s rays, but when your skin was pale and glinted in direct sunlight, it was simply borderline moronic.

Ayatah breathed slowly and controlled, though inside she was a flurry of anticipation. But she needed to contain herself, to concentrate on staying silent and unseen. Brashness and noise were the hunter’s greatest foes. And after all, she was petching hungry.

Her hiding place was unfortunately not quite as ideal as Razkar’s; the lower ground was slightly marshier, so Ayatah had to tread carefully to avoid making any squelching noises. To gain some height, she managed to balance herself on the thick roots of a tree even older than Quinneth, her back flush against its trunk. From here, she remained in the shade but was still able to (hopefully) knock a few arrows in that soft hairy flesh.

A pig in shit is a happy pig, Ayatah thought, and judging from the huge amount of aforementioned shit that covered this particular hog, he must have been in a state of pig-ecstasy. Somehow, knowing the animal was so exultant simply made him all the more delicious looking. Enjoy those final moments. It’s all downhill from here.

They were both ready, Ayatah knew. But the boar was already suspicious, so bird calling too frequently and in such close proximity could risk him bolting. She waited until he had his snout buried in the mud once more, and then Ayatah trained her arrow onto his fat rump.

She let out a high, almost cheerful-sounding bird cry. Before the jungle had swallowed up the final echoes of her call, two arrows flew through the air from opposite ends, and the pig didn’t stand a chance. He squealed and reared, confused and terrified.

Ayatah didn’t allow herself to stop, but instead reached behind herself and slid another arrow out of her quiver. It was notched, aimed and the bowstring pulled back in smooth, fluid movements. When it was released, however, the arrow did nothing more but graze the pig’s shoulder blade and embed itself in a gruesome pile of… Ayatah didn’t want to know what.

|| Ayatah's speech || Ayatah's thoughts || Others' speech ||

[Razkar]

Before her joyous-sounding call had even fully hit his ears, Razkar loosed his arrow. It flew in the space of a quick blink and he saw her own explode from the other direction.

What if we hit each other?

The insane thought flashed through his head right before both arrows struck the boar in it's broad, filthy flanks, twin arrows suddenly poking out of either side of it as it reared up, squealing in agony and rage and-

-started running.

"Shyke!"

He cursed savagely even as his hand flew back up to notch a fresh arrow in the time it took for the word to hit the air. Two arrows and still the bastard creature was running, fear or adrenaline powering it on. For a moment, though, it was mired in the muck, and Razkar knew better than to waste-

-a second arrow from Aya, piercing the humid air and opening a gash on the pig's shoulder before slamming into a pile of... well, it certainly wasn't black pudding. The beast staggered for a moment, giving Razkar a tiny window to raise his bow again, draw back the arrow-

-and plant it through the struggling, splashing male's right leg.

It crashed down in crippled fury and Razkar knew even if it ran now, it wouldn't be the near-impossible target it would be with four working legs. Raising up from his crouch, already notching another arrow, he aimed, saw a pale and shimmering being do the same opposite him-

-as Ayatah took careful aim and fired the killing blow into it's neck.

Scarlet gushed and sprayed, mixing and steaming into the mud. The bleating squeals became gurgles of agony. Razkar fired his final arrow and it thunked into its ribs, piercing a lung, maybe the heart, but the beast was too dumb or too stubborn to die so easily. Much like Myrians, he supposed.

He started running, bow lowered, Aya's very own dagger unsheathed with his other hand.

A good hunter does not draw out the suffering of his prey, his mother had told him solemnly years before.

The grim-faced Myrian closed the gap quickly and raised the dagger, determined to stay true to his mother's lesson.

[Ayatah]

Pull an arrow, notch, aim, release…

It was a rhythm that Ayatah was all too familiar with, but she stopped herself before that latest arrow escaped from her bow. Quickness was needed in the field (be it hunting or fighting), but downright hastiness was another matter. New recruits were infamous for sending off an impressive amount of arrows, but having spent no time thinking or aiming so their shots were dire at best. But, after being made to find and retrieve every arrow she had released during her military training, Ayatah knew better than to simply send off a third arrow without waiting to see what Razkar would do next.

But the boar was on the move now, hurrying out of the hellhole it had found itself in, almost unaware of the two arrows that sprouted out from its rump. She raised her bow, hoping to free her third arrow just as the hog passed her hiding place….

…Her lover beat Ayatah to it, landing an arrow into the pig’s leg. That stopped the animal from running, and it fell amongst the soggy earth with a squeal and snort.

The game was over, really, but both hunters knew better than to simply assume -- or to let the pig die so slowly and painfully. She swung her left leg down and forwards, stepping off the root of her tree and onto more solid, mossy ground. Her bow came up, feet bringing Ayatah closer to the pig so her final blow would be an accurate one. The arrow was fired, and it thudded into the hog’s neck.

The animal writhed and twitched, dying - but still quite slowly and very loudly. Mud and blood matted its fur, and now those tiny black eyes were full of agony. She winced, gripping the bow with her right hand whilst her left hung down by her side. Some parts of the hunt were… less enjoyable than the stalking of the prey.

A final arrow from Razkar embedded itself into the pig’s ribcage, but still it squealed dully and frothed at the mouth. She watched her lover dash forwards, leaping down to the boar’s level and joining the animal amongst the dirt and blood. Her dagger (or was his dagger, or their dagger?) flashed in the pale strips of sunlight. Razkar lowered it against the boar’s body, resting it on the matted dark fur before jerking it into the pig’s heart . When she saw the dagger again, the blade was tipped with red and the pig had finally stopped snorting.

The hunt was over, and the two Myrians nodded to each other, catching their breath after the adrenaline-rush of the hunt. ”Good work,” she said, winking and shrugging her longbow alongside the quiver on her shoulder, ”now let’s get this guy back.”

The pig weighed a hefty amount, so it took both of them to carry it back to their makeshift encampment. After they had laid it down beside the dead bonfire, Ayatah plucked the arrows from his fat little body and set about finding suitable firewood. Perhaps there were some herbs they could use in cooking, too... Though she was as far from a decent cook as she was from being a… pig.

She paused to land a simple kiss on Razkar’s lips. Because she could, and when she leant away, there was that all-too-familiar smile on her lips. ”I hope you know that I can’t cook.” She warned playfully, but with a hint of seriousness to her tone nonetheless.

|| Ayatah's speech || Ayatah's thoughts || Others' speech ||

[Razkar]

”Good work, now let’s get this guy back.”

Razkar couldn't help but smirk at her words, swinging his own shortbow over.

"Not bad for a mere male, hmm?"

Rolled eyes were what he got by way of reply, and that was enough for him.

Half a bell of grunting, cursing, laughing and mutual exhaustion saw them get the bleeding carcass back to their makeshift camp. When they planted it next to the not-even-smoldering bonfire, Razkar let himself fall back on his haunches, dripping sweat and deciding that they should relax for a bit before-

Her sweet, simple kiss bought him back to reality.

”I hope you know that I can’t cook.”

Razkar opened his mouth to retort (or perhaps just beg), but Aya was already bustling around collecting firewood and tossing away the spent and blackened logs from the previous night. His face was a picture of confusion but pretty soon his jaw snapped shut and he frowned.

Fine. Males can cook. My father can cook! So, it must be... like a family thing...

Spurred on by that magnificent lie, Razkar started to look around their supplies. Ah, yes... Quinneth did pack them some herbs, meant to be rubbed into meat to both preserve and spice. Paira's husband had given them a fine skinning knife as well, wickedly curved and thin, perfectly designed to pierce that thin membrane between muscle and skin.

He found both and narrowed his eyes at the still and challenging carcass. "Fine..." he muttered to himself, hefting his ax "... we'll start simple..."

Three hefty whacks got one leg severed, and Razkar settled down in his haunches, cross-legged, skinning knife held ready. Humming a song from his childhood as he worked, eyes focused on the task at hand... he began to slice through skin... peeling away the hide of the boar, revealing the yellow fat and red muscle underneath.

"Well... this isn't too bad..."

Flint on flint clicked and clacked from ahead of him, and he glanced up to find Ayatah industriously setting alight a mound of dried roots at the base of their new bonfire. He smiled at her, skin so pale and alien... hands so sure and Myrian...

Razkar looked down and smiled just as she looked at him. He wanted to get this right. He wanted to feed her by his hand, in the manner of the ancient tribes.

"Dinner will not be long." She cast a gaze his way and he shrugged. "Yes, it was meant to be breakfast, but plans change... and the chef cannot be rushed, after all..."

A few chimes later the skinned leg was ready for a skewer above the fire.

[Ayatah]

Summer was the rainy reason of the jungle, so Ayatah struggled to find enough dry leaves to make any decent tinder for the fire. After a while searching, however, she found a half-rotten old log wedged up to a huge silvery rock. The bark from the tree was dark and dry, so she added that with the small pile of dried leaves.

Next… firewood.

That wouldn’t be such a challenge to find, and quick enough she had gathered plenty of sticks and twigs. After throwing some of the skinnier ones in with the dried leaves, Ayatah set about stacking the rest. She had seen her mother, cousins and even younger sister do it before… And yet each time she lent those sticks against each other to build a tepee-like shape, they collapsed into a pile amongst the kindling.

”This is impossible…” She growled, temper flashing hotly. But she wouldn’t give up; the Scattered Bones stubbornness and the Eypharian pride would not allow her to. Three more unsuccessful attempts followed, until finally, it held together. She cheered quietly to herself, not even daring to make a loud noise in case her voice alone knocked those damn sticks and twigs once again. When she heard a snort to her left, Ayatah threw Razkar a glare, though her lips were pursed in a half-concealed smile. Her attention back on the not-yet-ready bonfire, Ayatah began to stack rocks and stronger twigs around her twig tepee, creating a barrier to protect the flames and also to rest their skewers on. When that was done, she leant back and nodded, pleased with her handicraft.

See, I can provide for my man…

Her family had set them both off with a fireboard and spindle each, so Ayatah took hers and sat beside the empty fireplace. Both were finely made; the spindle was smooth and the fireboard made with several perfect little triangular notches down each length. Placing the spindle flush against the fireboard, she began rolling the former backwards and forwards in her hands, keeping a constant speed. Her hands began to ache, and the wood began to smoke, but Ayatah continued.

Don’t stop until you see--

-- the point where the two piece of wood met began to glow faintly red, and Ayatah stopped what she was doing. Holding the fireboard to her lips, she blew upon it gently, so it smoked even more until finally, she saw the tiniest of sparks. She met the fireboard with a piece of kindling, and soon there were flames.

And not long after that, the bonfire was burning.

"Dinner will not be long. Yes, it was meant to be breakfast, but plans change... and the chef cannot be rushed, after all..."

”Oh can’t he?” She mused, crawling over to her new favourite chef and kissing his cheek as he hacked and chopped. Then she cast a longing look back to her bonfire, admiring her handiwork, as well as his. ”Well, at least if we get lost the jungle we can survive by ourselves.”

Now that was a tempting thought…

When his work was completed, Ayatah picked up the two skewers and rested them above the fire. Then she leaned back, her elbows propping herself up and a smile on her face. It was the first day they had not woke and began walking first thing, and her muscles were appreciating the break -- though her hands were sore.

|| Ayatah's speech || Ayatah's thoughts || Others' speech ||

[Razkar]

”Oh can’t he? Well, at least if we get lost the jungle we can survive by ourselves.”

Razkar's chuckle became rueful at her words and Ayatah's kiss. Two fat cutlets of meat had been skinned from the leg, leaving just strands of gristle and some hoary hooves hanging onto the bones. She propped them up delicately over the flames and by the time he had settled down on net to her, he could already her fat crackling over the flames.

"We could do that, you know." He said, voice faraway as he stroked her hand, eyes on the fire. "Well... we're not going to, but... we could live out here. Like Wolf. Sorry, Tinnok. Hunt what we need. Food, fur, leather..."

He smiled, seeing such an image of the two of them, alone but never lonely, as long as they had each other. It was a pleasant fiction, but a fiction nonetheless.

"But it would feel too much like running away." He said quietly, gripping her hand tighter and not noticing her wince of pain. "Too much like... abandoning everyone. Like the dark days before the Goddess-Queen." He shook his head and gave a dramatic sigh, turning to her. "Still, it's nice to... Aya?"

He saw the tremor of pain on her face and his stomach fell a few feet south of where it should have been. The male jerked up instanty, alert, intense, asking and finally finding that he was the cause of the problem.

Razkar turned her hand over and winced himself at the red marks there. Smiling at her in what he hoped was a romantic fashion - and he'd got good at that over the years - he sat cross-legged in front of her and started to gently massage her palm. Rubbing his thumbs over the sore muscles, gently at first, then kneading out the kinks ruthlessly...

"I will feed you when the food his ready," he said quietly, casting a quick glance at the browning meat, "Oh, don't make that face, my love. I know it's an old and stupid tradition... or sounds like it, anyway, but I want to."

His hand reached up and caressed her cheek. Goddess... he would miss her so much. That fine, soft skin. Her impossibly deep eyes like melted chocolate. The bow of her lips and the reams of hair the smell of which alone drove in insane. The way she tilted her head into his hand and closed her eyes, making him feel...

... more than just a male among females.

Then he realized he hadn't wiped his hand after skinning the boar.